Ask me O' Ishmael,
what I believe to be the failings
of our fair society.
I too see the amnesia of our anthropology
the inane belief that we are the owners
and operators of this great
world.
I am not the end of the line;
the finished product
of this evolutionary tale.
Far from it,
at least my mind hopes.
I am not the jelly fish,
captive to the sea
and a trite believer that the world
was created to meet my needs.
I am not the chosen one,
to feed from the omnipresent belly
of mother earth.
No, I am merely a Leaver,
trapt in captivity;
a fanciful spectacle
for the consuming masses of my generation.
I hope to merely
enlighten myself to the reality
that my fellow creatures of banal respiration
will all meet the same fetid end.
We will die:
some slowly, others painfully
yet, quicksilver to the cortex
is my lurid dream.
Fast and furious,
like a teenager to the breast
is how I pray it ends.
Yet, O' Ishamael,
my brother in agnostic dreams,
I will carry the torch
and teach all who will listen
of Cain and Abel,
and of the evolution of living beings.
